


Jotaro Kujo and the Lake of Stars

by Triss_Hawkeye



Series: JoJo's Magical Adventure - A Hogwarts AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gen, Japanese magic headcanons, Mahoutokoro (Harry Potter), The Sorting Hat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 05:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14466252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triss_Hawkeye/pseuds/Triss_Hawkeye
Summary: There's something strange haunting Jotaro Kujo. On a mission to find out what it is, he enrols in the first transfer program between Mahoutokoro and Hogwarts, but his arrival is more eventful than expected...





	1. 1st September 1981

**Author's Note:**

> A loose collaboration with ornithocrat, whose fault it is that this AU exists. Happy belated birthday, Jo-Bro!
> 
> With many thanks to [Nomette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomette) for being my beta reader on this one.

The Portkey landed him on a hillside, knee-deep in fragrant, scruffy heather and feeling as if his stomach had been wrung out like a cloth. He took a few deliberate, steady breaths. Around him the other transfer students clutched their middles or leant on their knees trying not to throw up. The teacher who had accompanied them groaned and muttered to herself for a moment, then shoved the tatty disposable chopstick in a bag and started rounding up the eight students, shooing them down the hill towards the lake.

It had been early morning when they’d left Mahoutokoro, light still pale less than an hour after dawn. Here it was night - the sky was dark and clear, with a thin sliver of moon making up a small fraction of the light in the heavens, the rest of it stars. Jotaro couldn’t help but take a moment to look up at it in wonder, and then down at the lake, so clear and still this night that it reflected the stars back. And across the water, the castle, adding its own constellation of gold-lit windows to the spectacle. The air had a bite to it that was partly chill and partly something unseen, ancient and heavy in the way that Mahoutokoro was ancient and light. Strangely apprehensive, Jotaro felt for his wand inside his robes. His fingers brushed over the oak wood and tingled. It was as if it was excited to be here. He swallowed down a sense of unease.

“Phew… Beautiful, isn’t it?” said one of the other students, in red ninth year robes - which would make her a fifth year in Hogwarts, Jotaro supposed. He would be entering the first year, along with one other boy. It seemed strange, given he’d already been going to school for four years, but as it turned out, Hogwarts didn’t have a day school.

“That works out well for you,” his mother had said. “Everyone else in your year will be new too, so you won’t have any trouble settling in.” Jotaro had looked down at the application form dubiously, brush wavering in his hand, and Holly had smiled comfortingly. “You know, it’s completely up to you whether you want to go or not. This transfer does sound like a lovely opportunity for you. You’ll have a chance to connect with another side to your family, and learn lots of new things! But whatever you choose, know that I’m always really proud of you. And I’ll miss you lots and lots, whether you board at Mahoutokoro or Hogwarts.” She knelt down beside him and wrapped him up in a hug.

“You’re going to make me mess up my writing,” Jotaro grouched. Holly laughed into his shoulder. Part of him wanted to tear up the parchment and forget about it. None of his friends at school wanted to go anyway. But a deeper part of him had already made up his mind. Both for the reasons that his mother gave, and for another, secret reason. There was something wrong with his wand, and Hogwarts might be the only place he could find an answer. He sighed, and began to fill out the form.

It took about five minutes to trek down to the lakeside, where a boat just large enough for the nine of them waited on a small jetty. As they all took a seat, it moved off by itself towards the castle. A stray puff of wind sputtered ahead of them, fragmenting the water into countless shards of mirror. Behind, their wake rippled out like unfurling wings. Some of the older students murmured to each other in excitement. Jotaro stared silently out over the water, and checked that his wand was still in his robes, where he had left it.

A little further out, it looked like something was moving just beneath the surface, creating a strange indentation in the lake. Jotaro watched curiously as it began to move towards them. He glanced around - no one else seemed to have noticed it. He leaned out slightly, trying to get a better look. It continued to approach, and the ripple grew larger. It occurred to him belatedly that perhaps he should feel nervous, perhaps he should say something, but there was barely any time to open his mouth before the waters burst open and the air was filled with writhing flesh.

A couple of the students shrieked as two massive tentacles smacked down onto the boat, causing it to lurch violently. The teacher stood up and fired a hex at their assailant, but Jotaro already felt himself tumbling uncontrolled out of the boat. The next thing he knew, there was cold black water in all directions. 

Heart racing, he clung to his hat, then let out a little air, trying to see which way the bubbles went. They scattered and danced in the churning water as the giant squid thrashed around, recoiling from the hex. Jotaro curled up as he was buffeted around. The movement briefly stopped and he found himself in a pocket of calm right beside the creature’s body. His lungs felt as if they were pounding on the inside of his chest. He turned his head to face it, and for a moment time seemed to stop as he came face-to-enormous-deep-black-eye with something monstrous and magnificent. And then without thinking, as he felt tentacles regather and reach around behind him, he pulled out his wand.

Almost as if someone else had grabbed his hand, he thrust it out at the beast with a wordless cry, the last of the air in his lungs rushing out in a single yell. From the tip of his wand burst an inhuman figure of ghostly purple light that arrowed through the water as if it were nothing and pummelled a fist straight into the squid’s maw. There was something that felt like a shockwave and an explosion of bubbles. In an angry flurry, the squid squirted a billow of ink and disappeared into the depths of the lake as quickly as it had appeared. Limbs flailing and lungs straining, Jotaro scrambled for the surface. 

The ghostly figure was nowhere to be seen. The demon had returned to his wand.


	2. 7th April 1977

It had always been a strange wand.

The day stood out in his memory - a spring morning when he was seven, holding his mother’s hand as she led him to the castle. (“Magic school preparations?” his father had asked. “How about I go on tour for a few weeks and stay out of your hair? Don’t want to trip and get lost inside a magic schoolbag, or something.” “Sounds lovely, dear,” his mother had replied, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you when things have settled down.”)

Jotaro was excited, but also knew that he was supposed to be calm and peaceful, so he focussed on the cherry blossoms drifting gently downwards onto the stairs they ascended, picked out the intricate details of painted cranes flying gracefully across the shoji panels inside, breathed breaths as slow and steady as he could. Finally, they reached the point where he had to go on by himself. Holly kissed his head, wished him luck, and he entered the room alone, sitting down cross-legged on the cushion as he had been instructed.

Save for the cushion and a small wooden table in front of him, the tatami floor of the room was bare. Many things hung from the ceiling - mobiles of small stones, shells, paper charms and carved pieces of wood, all intricately balanced and slowly spinning. Strings of origami cranes that rustled softly and preened their wings, small bells of copper and painted glass that chimed so softly as to be barely audible. To one side, the room was open out onto a small internal garden, green plants among pale grey stones and trickling water. A crane - a real one, tall and white - stood one-legged near the room. It looked at him sternly, then took flight, disappearing somewhere out of view. Jotaro returned his gaze into the room and shut his eyes, trying to clear his head like he was supposed to. The air smelled faintly of bamboo and incense. 

He was beginning to wonder whether he had insufficiently cleared his head when he heard faint footsteps upon the tatami mats. He cracked his eyes open to see an old wizard in long gold robes approach, place down his own cushion and sit opposite him. He screwed his eyes tightly again.

“You are allowed to open your eyes now,” the wizard said, with a kind humour. He laid four wands out on the table before Jotaro. “My name is Morimoto. Please, take some time to inspect the wands in front of you and hand me the one you feel the most connection to. Don’t overthink it. Go with what feels right to you.”

Jotaro looked down at the wands. Each was of a different wood, each a slightly different size and shape. He picked one up, thin and dark coloured. Nothing seemed to happen. He glanced at the wizard, who made no move or comment, so he gave the wand an experimental flick. Nothing continued to happen. He put it back down. The second one he picked up felt more like something - it seemed to jitter in his hand, like he was trying to hold on to soap. Almost without him moving his hand it sneezed white sparks, and he put it down promptly. 

He next passed his hand over a rich brown wand, a little longer than the others and more simply carved. Something held his hand there, seizing his attention. As he reached for it, it felt like taking the hand of an old friend, warm and familiar. He moved his hand eagerly, and the wand didn’t so much move with it as actively join the motion, like it was joining in a game. A ripple moved out from its tip into the room, and for a second, every hanging thing stopped moving. Then the bells and cranes and stones resumed their gentle motion.

“Fascinating,” the wizard murmured. Jotaro handed the wand out to him decisively. He didn’t even need to try the fourth one. Morimoto took it and the others and placed them on a cloth to one side, before leaving the room briefly. Jotaro fidgeted, and wondered if Morimoto was fetching a box to put the wand in for him. Instead, he returned with a tray of four more wands, which he laid out before Jotaro in the same way. “Now, try these.”

Each one seemed to respond a little this time, but none as strongly as the brown wand. Jotaro eventually handed Morimoto a medium-sized, almost yellow wood wand. “This one,” he said. “But it wasn’t as good as the first one,” he added, in the hope that he’d get that one instead. 

“That’s all right, quite all right,” Morimoto replied. He left again, and returned with four more wands, to Jotaro’s dismay. “This is an iterative process. We work, step by step, towards the wand which is right for you, which will choose you as its user. There is no randomness or flights of fancy like they might have in England.” He gave a smile. Jotaro didn’t smile back, but Morimoto continued anyway. “Your wand is a thing tied to your destiny. It must be found with care and precision.” 

None of the wands laid out now seemed to be an improvement, and neither were the four wands after that. Jotaro’s legs were getting stiff and he wanted to do something else. Besides, Morimoto’s unrushed manner was getting annoying. “Why can’t I just have that first wand?” Jotaro asked finally, handing back a heavy ash-grey number.

Morimoto smiled and shook his head. “Those four wands at the beginning are an exercise in calibration, in finding out your general temperament. I do not expect any of those wands to actually _choose_ -” He paused, and looked down at the first one that had reacted so strongly to Jotaro. “But then…”

He picked it up, holding it gently. “English Oak. Thirty-three centimetres. Fairly sturdy. Rather ordinary, wouldn’t you think? But it is a very old wand - an experimental one, in fact. It was made in England, and its core is a shard from a rock that fell from the sky into the ocean. Two wands were made from that rock.” Jotaro narrowed his eyes. “That’s right - this wand had a brother. That brother chose a wizard the very year it was made, and that wizard went on to do powerful things. Very powerful things. But this wand chose no one. Indeed, it has been passed from wandmaker to wandmaker and has always seemed to actively refuse even those who wished to claim it by force. Until now… 

“Young man, what was your family name again? Kujo, was it?”

“Yes,” Jotaro replied. And though Morimoto’s gaze was inquisitive, he added no more.

—

“Well, at least it wasn’t any more expensive than a normal wand!” Holly said cheerily as they descended the steps once more, putting away her purse and handing Jotaro the neatly wrapped box that contained a wand well over a hundred years old. “I always knew my boy was special. Imagine a wand like that choosing you! How exciting!”

“What was he saying?” Jotaro demanded. “I couldn’t hear!” Once his mother was invited in to purchase the wand on his behalf, Morimoto had taken her to one side for a swift conversation in urgent whispers. Holly’s face had been earnest, thoughtful. Worried. Jotaro had glared over at them, still sat on the cushion. Why weren’t they talking to him? It was his wand now, after all.

“Well, let’s see.” Holly found a stone bench along the path and sat down, patting the seat for Jotaro to join her. He sighed, but did so. “Now, you know that my side of the family is a bit famous, don’t you?”

Jotaro nodded impatiently. His mother had been born a Joestar - daughter of the famous Joseph Joestar and great-granddaughter of the legendary Jonathan Joestar. But she had married a Muggle and lived a life of happy obscurity a little outside Tokyo, with an unremarkable name and no greater expectation of her son than to be who he wanted to be.

“And you know that your great-great-grandfather died defeating a very bad man, don’t you?”

“I’m not a baby, mum, just tell me what’s going on.”

Holly sighed fondly. “You’re growing up so fast! All right. Back in those days, there was an extremely powerful dark wizard who set out to conquer England’s magical community, and from there, the world. His name was Lord Dio. Your ancestor, Jonathan Joestar, sacrificed his life to put a stop to him. That’s the part everyone knows. What fewer people know is that they were brothers. Dio was adopted into the Joestar family when they were both children.” Jotaro’s eyes widened as he began to put the pieces together. He looked down at the box that contained his wand, that he had been so eager to receive. All at once it seemed foreboding.

Holly reached out and took one of his hands in hers. “I didn’t tell Morimoto who we were, although I am sure he now has his suspicions. But he did tell me that your wand is the brother of the wand that belonged to Lord Dio.”

“That’s why it chose me.” Jotaro’s other hand tightened around the box. “Then we throw it away, or break it,” he said forcefully. “I can find another one.” The idea pained him, and he wished he hadn’t said it. 

Holly shook her head and ruffled his hair. “A wand isn’t what makes someone good or bad, darling. That’s for them to decide.” She pulled him in close and placed a kiss to his forehead. He squirmed, from a sense that it was what a seven-year-old boy ought to do, rather than because he really minded. “I’m sure that wand is going to help you do great things. But you get to decide what they are.” Relieved, Jotaro clutched the box to his chest and decided that his wand would only do good things. 

Over their heads, a crane flew past, a scroll tied to its leg.


	3. The Demon Ghost

Jotaro surfaced a few metres away from the boat, stained black with ink and hurriedly stowing his wand safely into his robes as he gasped for air. “Kujo!” the teacher called frantically, and in moments the boat was at his side and a collection of hands reached down to drag him back aboard. “That was so careless of you. It was a good job the creature lost interest. You’re lucky you weren’t killed!” Jotaro scowled and sat down on his own. The rest of the students looked on at the ink-dripping boy with sympathy but otherwise gave him a wide berth. All but one.

Jotaro didn’t know Noriaki Kakyoin well, even though they were in the same year. They were in different houses, although Mahoutokoro was small enough that almost everyone knew each other to some extent. But Noriaki never spoke to anyone he didn’t need to. He wasn’t a rude child, just a solitary one. He would always be reading when others were playing, and sometimes he would just sit in a corner doing nothing much at all. Some of the other children said that he talked to himself at those times, and preferred the conversation to any exchange with another person. It often seemed as if he barely cared what anyone was doing around him. But right now, he was staring at Jotaro, eyes wide and piercing. Knowing.

Without a word, the red-haired boy stood up and shuffled over to where Jotaro sat. Jotaro scowled at him, not breaking eye contact. The teacher murmured something harried about everyone needing to sit down. Noriaki sat down next to Jotaro, just far enough away to avoid getting squid ink on his green robes. He leaned in, face right up next to Jotaro’s ear. “You have one too,” he whispered.

The words caused Jotaro’s blood to run cold. 

—

It had been a little under a year since he’d first started seeing the demon that possessed his wand, but all he knew was that no one else could see it, and that it was dangerous. He’d been watching a Quidditch match between some of the older students on a cold November afternoon, the wind whistling mercilessly through the stands and taking vicious swipes at the players. It had been a freak accident - swept into the path of a Bludger, one of the Chasers had lost control of her broom, careening down towards where Jotaro was sitting. He’d taken out his wand, not even sure of what he could cast to help the situation, only knowing that he felt safer with it. He found himself frozen in place by the look of helplessness on the girl’s face as she locked eyes with him, his mind screaming at him to do something and his body unable to respond in time.

Moments before impact, before he had a chance to do or say anything at all, a clenched fist burst out of nowhere, slamming into the girl’s side. Deflected, she grazed past Jotaro, smashing into the wall of the Quidditch stand, where she lay, broomstick shattered and body horribly still. The hand remained before him for a second, attached to a translucent body that he couldn’t quite make out, like an afterimage from staring too long at a bright light. And then it withdrew, to Jotaro’s horror, into his wand.

He looked around as teachers hurried over, trying to defuse the panicked shouting among the student spectators and reach the downed player. She was bundled onto a stretcher and Jotaro himself was checked for any injury but was found miraculously unharmed. Everyone agreed that he was extraordinarily lucky that the Chaser had managed to swerve out of his way. No one - not even those sitting around him - had seen the ghostly figure that had attacked her. And when she woke up in the hospital wing the next day, a little dazed but mostly patched up, her memories of the incident were too hazy to pin down any detail of what had happened. Any insistence on his own part that his wand had done something was met with reassurance that the imagination could do strange things when you were scared.

So Jotaro kept it a secret, and worried. He took to ‘accidentally’ leaving the wand at school at the end of the day, but that lead to more trouble and scoldings, and the relentless fear that a teacher or boarding student would find it and be attacked. Instead, he kept it securely tucked within his robes, not taking it out unless he absolutely had to, and compulsively reached in to touch it, to make sure it was still there. He went to sleep with it held against his body.

When the owl came from Hogwarts with an invitation to interested students to participate in an exchange program, he was the first to collect a form.

—

“You saw it?” Jotaro hissed. 

“Yeah, I saw it,” Noriaki whispered back, with a crooked, uncertain smile. “I have one as well.”

Jotaro stared at him, perturbed. This strange boy who he’d never spoken to in his life also had a possessed wand, but didn’t at all seem scared or worried about it. If anything, he seemed oddly happy. On instinct, Jotaro patted his robe where his wand lay tucked back inside it. 

“Let’s talk about it later,” Noriaki added, with a sideways glance at the other occupants of the boat. He raised his whisper slightly to be audible. “So what house do you want to be in? I’ve been doing some research, and-“

“Why are we whispering?” Nearby, a girl in purple robes who’d be going into fourth year, Reimi Sugimoto, cupped her hands around her mouth and stage-whispered at them with a smile. “You okay?” she mouthed at Jotaro.

Jotaro nodded, as Noriaki gave a bashful laugh. “It was really quiet,” he protested with a shy smile, dropping the whisper. “What do you think? I think I’d like to be in Ravenclaw.”

“We’re going to be Sorted? Even though we’re not real Hogwarts students?” Jotaro asked. Holly had bought him a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ in English. He’d read up on the school and its houses while familiarising himself with English magical terminology and what sort of things to expect. But somehow he hadn’t expected this. He’d assumed that all the Japanese transfer students might be kept together. 

Reimi nodded. “I think so. I talked with one of the other teachers about it before we left. They said it would help integrate us into Hogwarts, help us make friends.” She turned to Noriaki with an excited smile. “I’d like to be in Ravenclaw too! I read that it’s the house Jonathan Joestar was in. Wouldn’t that be exciting? What about you, Jotaro?”

Jotaro looked away, but he felt a bubble of excitement inside him. Like anyone else, he’d absorbed the chapters on the old Hogwarts houses, mulling them over in his mind and wondering, if he ever had the chance to be Sorted, which house he would want to be in. He didn’t particularly want renown or ambition, but he did want to learn. And if he was honest, it wasn’t just the truth about his wand that motivated him, although that was most on his mind - he’d also been drawn to the new and interesting subjects Hogwarts had on offer, with strong courses in Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures, where Mahoutokoro’s strengths lay more in Potions, Paper Magic, and Yokai Studies. And there was something comforting about the idea of attending the same house his great-great-grandfather had over a century ago, though he didn’t want to reveal that.

“Yeah. Ravenclaw,” he said quietly, watching the castle as it grew ever nearer.


	4. The Divination Professor

Jotaro was still dripping ink and water by the time they reached the castle and entered through the grand gates to the entrance hall. The group was greeted by an elderly woman no taller than he was, who briefly counted heads and gathered them together at the bottom of the stairwell in a gaggle of multi-coloured robes.

“Are we all here? Good, good. Your luggage and familiars have already arrived and are being prepared to be sent to your dormitories. We at Hogwarts apologise for the behaviour of our giant squid - I can only assure you that it is usually quite docile, and we have not witnessed such conduct in over a hundred years. I am very glad none of you were harmed. Now, I am the Potions Professor here, and-”

She was interrupted by a voice from the top of the stairwell. “Tsk tsk, someone is dripping ink all over the entrance hall. Is that any way to treat such nice flagstones?” As Jotaro looked up to the source of the voice, he felt a deep warmth surround him. Suddenly, his green uniform was dry and iridescent globules of ink were floating up towards the wand of a young, dark-skinned man in rich red robes. He automatically checked to make sure his wand was still tucked inside his robes - still there, still quiet. The man dug a jar out of one of his sleeves and deftly scooped the droplets of ink out of the air, sealing it tight and stowing back into the depths of his robe. Then he descended the stairs with a smile. Beside him walked the Headmaster of Hogwarts himself, a bearded giant of a man who folded his arms and gave a deep, hearty laugh.

“Professor Geil, I will let you continue the introduction, but I must ask that you allow me to steal away my grandson for a minute or two.”

All eyes went to the Headmaster, and then turned to Jotaro in disbelief. Several jaws hung open. The short old woman looked less than pleased. As for Jotaro, he pulled his hat down over his eyes and glared at the floor. “Why’d you have to do that, old man? Now everybody knows.”

“Kujo! You can’t speak… like that… to…” began his teacher, before sputtering out at the approach of the Headmaster, who chuckled and patted Jotaro’s head. 

“Why, I haven’t seen you since you came up to my knee! Now, excuse us Professor Geil, Mayama-sensei, we’ll not be long.” And with that, Joseph Joestar, Headmaster of Hogwarts, placed an arm around Jotaro’s shoulders and guided him into a side room. The other man followed with a grin, and the door closed behind them.

“Well well, when I got that crane from old Morimoto four years ago I thought we’d be expecting exciting things from you. But punching a giant squid in the face on your first night! That was certainly more than I bargained for.” Joseph Joestar gave another guffaw while the second man stroked his chin.

“But it wasn’t you who punched it, was it, Jotaro?” he asked. At Jotaro’s horrified silence, he smiled. “Forgive me - my name is Mohammed Abdul, Professor of Divination. I was watching your approach from the Astronomy tower. I saw what happened - and I saw what came out of your wand. Please, may I see?”

Jotaro took his wand out of his robes, but held it down. “My wand’s possessed. It’s dangerous. I can’t control it,” he said.

“Yes you can,” Joseph replied blithely. “Cast it for us.”

“Cast it…?”

“When this has happened before, what sort of situations were you in?” Abdul asked, with a quick sideways glance towards the Headmaster.

Jotaro stared at the floor for a moment, remembering. The Quidditch match. The rogue kappa. The giant squid. “When I was in danger,” he replied simply. Joseph exchanged a narrow-eyed nod with Abdul. Jotaro looked at his wand in a new light, wondering if it were possible… 

Abdul stepped forward and drew his own wand in one sudden motion. “Magician’s Red!” he exclaimed, and suddenly Jotaro’s vision filled with fire. Bearing down on him was a man-sized creature with the head of a vicious bird, shrieking and wreathed in flame like a phoenix gone wrong. Before Jotaro could respond, he found his arm wrenched up again. The demon burst out of his wand once more, catching the fists of the creature in its own hands. 

“Well, there you have it, Headmaster. The boy has a Stand, all right.” 

With a cool flick of Abdul’s wand, the fiery creature disappeared, leaving Jotaro’s demon standing by itself. He got a good look at it this time, in the open space of the room, stark against the stone walls. He could see through it like a ghost, but its presence felt more solid and real. Its surface was a metallic colour that shifted between blues, greens and purples like a starling’s feathers. It was a little taller and bulkier than he was, shaped like a young man with wild hair and minimal ornamental clothing, like some kind of mythical warrior prince from the ancient past. It turned to look at him, and he met piercing blue eyes the mirror of his own before it vanished into his wand once more. Shaken, he looked up at the Divination Professor for answers.

Abdul seemed unconcerned. “When did it first appear?” he asked.

“Last November.”

“It matches,” the Professor told Joseph, who nodded and stroked his beard. Abdul turned back to Jotaro. “Your wand isn’t possessed. Instead, you are in possession of a certain power that we call a Stand - think of it like a guardian that stands at your side. In essence it is a spell, similar to the Patronus charm, but completely unique to each witch or wizard. It manifests your will to fight, to cheat death - to survive. It therefore generally provides protection, but it is not something that can simply be learned - it is acquired, through means we are not sure of, yet.”

“I have some theories,” Joseph added, newly serious. “I developed one myself last November. I’m going to send an owl to my daughter. If my theory is correct and it turns out that she has one too…”

“…It’s to do with our family. We all got one at the same time,” Jotaro finished. “But why?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Joseph mused.

“I’m a little different,” Abdul said. “I’ve had mine my entire life. Once term starts, Jotaro, I can give you some lessons after school on how to use yours properly.” He leant down and put a comforting hand on Jotaro’s shoulder. “But until then, don’t worry yourself about it. All right?”

Jotaro nodded, already feeling a sense of relief. He wondered if he should mention Noriaki to them, but he wasn’t sure, so he held his tongue. “Yeah. All right.”


	5. The Sorting Hat

By the time Jotaro returned to the group, they had already entered the Great Hall and lined up behind the incoming class of Hogwarts students. “You didn’t miss much,” Noriaki whispered over to him, as Jotaro took his place in line two spaces behind him. “That hat in the front sang a song. It was pretty weird.”

Jotaro nodded as the line in front of them moved forward slowly. New students put on the hat, and the hat shouted the name of a house, cheers and applause erupting from the four long tables that took up most of the space in the hall. Above their heads, banners of the four houses and the Hogwarts crest fluttered beneath a replica of the cloudless sky outside in place of the ceiling. At the end of the hall, behind the Sorting Hat, was the high table where the teachers sat. Jotaro watched as the Headmaster and Abdul re-entered the hall and took seats at the table. His grandfather caught his eye and winked.

There was a pause as the last of the non-Mahoutokoro students sat down at their house’s table, and Headmaster Joestar got to his feet.

“A warm welcome to a new year at Hogwarts, to both new and returning students. I hope you are all well-rested and ready to study hard!” He let out a chuckle as the smiles on the faces along the house tables became decidedly fixed. “Here at Hogwarts we have the privilege of being one of the world’s finest magical schools. Over the years, we have been proud to welcome young witches and wizards not only from all over Britain, but occasionally from all over the world to study here in this ancient institution. We also benefit from some of the world’s finest talents on our teaching staff - on which note, I would like to introduce you all to our new Divination Professor, Mohammed Abdul, a recent graduate from Uagadou.” Abdul rose and bowed, before sitting back down, to polite applause from the hall. 

“In addition, I am very pleased to announce the first ever official transfer student programme between Hogwarts and Mahoutokoro, the magical school of Japan. In just a moment, I will invite eight marvellous young students who have elected to join us for the remainder of their school careers to step up and be sorted into Hogwarts houses. They are of a range of different years and will, I’m sure, enter a range of different houses. And they are here to learn from us, but they bring with them a range of skills and talents that we can learn from just as much. From now on, they will be Hogwarts students, so please give them your deepest welcome. Mayama-sensei, please proceed.”

There was shuffling around the hall of curious and eager neck-craning, as the teacher stood up and began to read names off a scroll. 

“Maki Inoue.” The turquoise-robed girl at the front sat down calmly as Professor Geil, perched on top of a stool, placed the Sorting Hat on her head. Maki held her hands in her lap, the image of composure, for a few seconds, before the hat opened its mouth and shouted, “SLYTHERIN!”

A whoop went up from the far table in green and silver. “We get the first one!” someone yelled over the cheer. Maki hurried down to the table as soon as the hat was removed, looking somewhat flustered. 

“Noriaki Kakyoin.”

Noriaki caught Jotaro’s eye with an apprehensive smile before ascending the steps. The hat was barely on his head for a moment before, “RAVENCLAW!” erupted from it. Noriaki’s eyes lit up and he trotted down to the blue and bronze table. He took a seat and glanced over to Jotaro again. Jotaro nodded back at him, suddenly feeling a tumult of nerves within him as one Yoshikage Kira was sorted into Slytherin, fifth year, after some deliberation. He was up next.

“Jotaro Kujo.”

Somehow he kept his legs steady and face set in a frown as he walked up to the seat at the front and sat down. All eyes in the hall were on him, and he didn’t like it. The hat descended, sitting a little too large on his head but somehow warm and comfortable. He wished he could crawl away inside it. 

_Hmm… So, this one wants to be in Ravenclaw, does he?_ came a voice, somehow from within the hat. _There is a family legacy there, it’s true. And a sharp mind, and a will to learn._ Jotaro nodded, expectantly. _But then, I also see a heart full of courage, and a strong sense of justice. Tell me, young Jotaro, would you say that it is your duty to protect people, where you can?_ Jotaro found himself nodding again. It was the truth, after all. The hat gave a soft laugh, insofar as a hat could laugh. _Duty, honour, courage - you’ll do well in a house that values such things, you know. I know precisely where you belong. And trust me, boy - I’m never wrong..._ “GRYFFINDOR!”

The final word was announced to the school in a triumphant shout, and the hat was lifted from his head. Jotaro looked around the hall in a daze. He locked eyes with Noriaki on the Ravenclaw table, who first looked dismayed, but then put on a wide smile and clapped along with everyone else. Wondering if everyone could see how shaky he felt, Jotaro walked towards the table in red and gold, which was letting out the most boisterous cheers of the evening so far. Older students reached out and slapped him on the back as he sat down.

“Hey, welcome to the fun house!”

“I heard you’re the one who punched the giant squid in the face, is that true?”

“Seriously?! You’re in the right place then!”

“Are you the one who’s related to the Headmaster?”

“You bet he is. I overheard some of the other Japanese students talking about it. Besides, look at those features. He’s a Joestar all right.” This last voice came from the girl opposite him, brown and freckled with a confident smirk on her boyish face. “Although the first to be sorted into Gryffindor in generations. Family full of Ravenclaws, traditionally, at least until his grandfather got sorted into Slytherin.”

“How do you even know all that?” Jotaro asked her with a scowl.

“Not my fault you’ve got a famous family.” She stuck out her hand. “Ann. First year like you. Come on, you’re in England, shake it!”

Jotaro sighed and did so, as the hall fell quiet again for Yuuki Oshiro to be sorted into Ravenclaw. He watched as she and Noriaki were joined by Tetsuya Sasaki and Reimi Sugimoto, who gave Jotaro a friendly wave. Aya Tsuji was sorted into Hufflepuff, and then it was all over. The room erupted into a final round of applause that melted into happy chatter as food finally appeared on the tables and ravenous students began to fill their plates. Jotaro watched as the four Japanese Ravenclaws were surrounded by enthusiastic housemates, gleeful that they’d bagged the most transfer students. Someone on his right nudged him with an elbow. “Hey, don’t worry about being the only one. You’re a Gryffindor now, we’ll look after you. No need to look so stoic!”

He was about to ask precisely what they meant by that, when he felt an arm thrown around his shoulders from the left and turned to look at the older boy who’d just taken a seat next to him. He was older than Jotaro, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, with pierced ears and silver hair which stood on end as if he’d been electrocuted. “Don’t you worry Jotaro,” he said, a French accent warping his vowels. “My name is Jean Pierre. I am a transfer from Beauxbatons, a little less officially than you are, but to the extent that the British are rude and confusing, I shall be your best friend.”

“Oh give him a break, Polnareff,” the boy on the right yelled good-naturedly across the table. “Hey look, Kujo, don’t ever let him get started on-”

“ _Fletcher_ , I’ll have you know that my grandmother _was_ entirely Veela, and that _is_ precisely where my good looks come from - don’t deny it just because you’re jealous, this hair does not lie! Don’t listen to him, Jotaro, he is full of slander.”

Opposite, Ann sighed dramatically. “ _Boys_ ,” she said, before loading cauliflower cheese onto her plate. With no udon in sight, Jotaro studied his surroundings carefully and plucked at a bowl of roast potatoes. 

It took him a moment to realise that he hadn’t searched out his wand since his conversation with Professor Abdul and his grandfather. He did so then, out of habit, and realised that he wasn’t worried any more. Lessons with the Divination Professor loomed in the future, but he felt all right about waiting for it. In his memory flashed the blue eyes of his demon - his Stand - and somehow they reminded him of what Holly had told him about his wand, years ago. He would be the one to decide what to do with it.

He glanced back over to the Ravenclaw table and felt pleased to catch Noriaki’s eye. The other boy speared a Yorkshire pudding on a fork and waved it at him, pulling a face. He shrugged in return. On his left Jean Pierre was shovelling roast chicken onto his plate and exhorting him to avoid the gravy, ridiculous English invention that it was. Up on the high table, Abdul gave him a surreptitious thumbs-up. And, in the centre, Headmaster Joestar was grinning ear to ear. 

“Good grief,” he muttered to himself. It was going to be a long year. But perhaps it would be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I’m picky about these things, all relative ages are either accurate or reasonable guesses, except for Ann, who is aged up to match Jotaro, because I do what I want and she deserves better. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! This AU has an intricate, growing timeline that encompasses several of the JJBA parts by now, so I'm sure you'll be seeing more of it in the future...


End file.
